Roll With the Punches
by rvr idtq
Summary: Fred and George go on a business trip to New York, take a carefully selected ensemble cast with them, and run into (oh no!) the X-men. Featuring pleaseexcusemewhileIstickmyheadintheoven!Remus, LotRfan!Ron, and the twins' dragonhide jackets!
1. buggrit

Roll With the Punches

-the wizards meet the mutants-

Some things were meant to happen. This one wasn't.

A/N: Dude*...I really hate crossovers. Really. They tend to defy all logic, contain gaping plot holes, and use really lame jokes. Thus, I apologize in advance for this abomination. The energy spent on this would be better diverted to, say, my much neglected "Perseus Complex." Let's just day this is my way of blowing off steam after book 5. At least, I'm hoping I might not be so hostile towards Percy after this. (obscure) References to Terry Pratchett, Eoin Colfer, Lemony Snicket, and "The Ultimate Guide to Harry Potter." Anyone catching them gets free chocolate frogs. Yes, it's choppy. Deal with it.

((*I don't know how this word got into my vocabulary, but if you know how to get rid of it, do tell.))

Dedicated to Sarah a.k.a. Evil L33t, because her birthday just passed, and because she's probably the only person looking forward to this unholy matrimony. 

~~~~

Chapter 1 - buggrit

One thousand galleons in the hands of the average wizard goes far. But never as far as it does in the hands of a particular pair of absolutely un-average wizards. Notwithstanding certain clothing expenses, they (they being everyone's favorite plundering redheads) had managed to turn the laden purse of a generous friend into a brand of mischief already being confiscated by angry parents across the country. Life was good. But not good enough.

130,439 square kilometers is much too small a territory for two growing businessmen, and so, like many before them, these young men decided there was nothing for it but to Go West.

A problem arose. Going West is easy, they soon realized, but Getting Past Mum First is not. And that is where our story begins.

~~~~

Molly Weasley should have been suspicious when, upon arriving for dinner one evening, Fred casually mentioned that the gnomes were attempting to overthrow the cabbages in the garden again. Or rather, she should have been suspicious when George casually volunteered both of their de-gnoming services a moment later. But she smiled and dared to think that perhaps the two boys that had been the bane of her existence for the past eighteen years were finally becoming the respectable young wizards she had always hoped for. Do not pity her. She should have known better.

"So mum, we- George and I- were thinking of taking a business trip next week, you know, to try and drum up some sales," began Fred (casually, of course) when Molly passed him the potatoes.

"Mmm..."

"If we get another distributor before August, we'll make a bundle on back-to-school sales."

"I see."

"Do you mind then?" George's face suddenly appeared next to Fred's, and both stared at her as though the fate of the world rested on her shoulders and she hadn't yet caught on.

"No, I don't think so."

"Really?"

"Yes-" Their hearts leapt like two...leaping things leaping for the first time from the perch of...leaping forth. "-so long as you're back for dinner Sunday." Suddenly it became clear that leaping things that can only leap shouldn't leap from the perch of leaping forth...or something. In any case, their hopes hit the floor and left a dent on the linoleum.

Their eyes met, and after a brief private conversation communicated entirely through their eyebrows, George came out the loser and turned timidly back to Molly.

"We might be a little late to dinner, mum."

"How late?"

"A few days maybe."

"A few days!"

"A week really."

"A-a week!"

"Well, it's in New York. You know, in America?"

"I know where New York is."

"So...we'll go stick our heads in the oven then?" said George, turning back to Fred.

"Yes, I'm sure Lupin'll give us a turn if we ask."

"Very kind, he is."

"Don't be cheeky. You're not going, and that's final."

"We are going. And that's final."

"We're eighteen. We're of age. We're gone."

"You didn't want Charlie to run off to Romania, remember? He went anyway, and you were both horrible for months. But you got over it. You'll get over being mad at us eventually."

"Or, you can let us go now and save all the time and energy you would have spent knitting us sweaters three sizes too small for Christmas."

"I never-"

"Charlie showed us his sweater from that year, mum. Wouldn't have fit Ginny and you knew it."

They had touched a nerve, and they knew it at that moment as the light began to quiver in Molly's eyes. Charlie's wasn't the only sweater with bad memories. Another sat hidden in a closet upstairs where she was sure no-one would look. They hadn't meant to, but they did. And though they felt sick with the guilt no-one thought they had, they were happy a moment later when it worked.

"Fine." Molly swallowed hard. "But you're not going alone."

~~~~~

The group assembled at the Burrow. At 4:00. Antemeridian. But for the moment, let's address the group.

There were eight assembled. The logic generally went thus:

• Fred and George couldn't go alone. 

• So Lupin could go to keep them in line.

• But Lupin was mildly suicidal.

• So Tonks could go to keep Lupin in line.

• But Tonks was the sort of person to think playing Australian Indoor Rules Quidditch in the hotel room would be fun.

• So Harry could go because his experience with intolerant muggles could be used to keep Tonks in line.

• But Harry was also mildly suicidal at the moment.

• So Ron could go to give moral support and keep Harry in line.

• But Ron was also the sort of person to think playing Australian Indoor Rules Quidditch in the hotel room would be fun.

• So Hermione could go to keep Ron in line.

• But then Hermione would be the victim of an unfairly high boy-to-girl ratio.

• So Ginny could go to keep everyone in line.

It didn't really make sense at all, but when they all said it very fast all at the same time, it sounded very intimidating, so Molly let them go.

Arrangements were made muggle style because, really, if you were the owner of a magical travel agency or hotel, would you want to deal with that group? At least the muggles wouldn't know what they'd be getting into.

For example, once the muggle taxis they had called to take them to the airport arrived at the Burrow, they couldn't very well just drive away, could they? Well, I suppose they could have, and I probably would have myself, but maybe their minds weren't exactly at the top of their game at that moment. It _was_ 4 o'clock in the morning.

And why was it 4 o'clock in the morning? Well, clearly no cross-Atlantic journey is complete without waking up at the most ungodly hour one can get away with without having the whole group pass out on the front lawn.

"Urgh," said Ron, holding his pants up with one hand while his other tried to feed a chicken's head through his belt loop. 

"Ungh," said Lupin, looking longingly at a lone boot on the lawn.

"Ulgh," said Fred and George in unison, both fighting desperately with angry cowlicks.

"Oh, shut up, the lot of you," said Hermione. "Really, was it necessary for you all to drink all six cases of butterbeer last night?"

"Uhgh," said Harry, which used here means "yes."

"Blugh," said the chicken as it fiercely wrestled itself from Ron's grasp. Ron, upon realizing that his belt was tearing down the drive, decided to use the tie conveniently attached to his left shoe instead. Unfortunately, the ensuing battle with his shoe left a great deal of Chudley Cannons boxers exposed for a great deal of time, a great deal in front of Hermione.

"Honestly, Ron," scoffed Hermione.

"Ah," moaned Ron, "shove it up your-"

"Taxis are here," said Ginny, a great deal louder than Ron, unfortunately.

They piled in, four to a car (_after_ Lupin had been convinced that he couldn't suffocate by sticking his head in a boot with a hole in the toe), and they were off.

I have always thought it rude to hang over someone's shoulder while they are getting ready in the morning, and since that is precisely what all of them (but Hermione, of course) did between the Burrow and the airport, with some difficulty, I shall skip over this portion of the story entirely except for the following brief scene, as recorded by Ginny Weasley, who was in the front seat at the time:

Ron: Shove over Harry.

Harry: I can't.

Ron: Why Harry...Oi, Hermione, move that book, could you?

Hermione: But it's for school.

Ron: But I've just looked in that little mirror thingummy up front and my hair looks like, well-

Harry: -You've stuck your finger in an electric socket?

Ron: What?

Harry: Never mind.

Ron: Right. Anyway, I can't fix it without knocking out Harry's eye whith my elbow, so, would you mind?

Hermione: Yes.

Ron: Oh, _come on_, Hermione.

-brief scuffle in which car nearly veered off the road-

Hermione: Just act like you intended it to look that way.

Ron: What?

Hermione: Lots of muggles do it. Right, Harry?

Harry: Well...the weird ones....

Hermione: See? And for muggles, 'weird' means 'cool.'

Ron: Fine then. Read your stupid book.

*ahem*

Anyway, this all became very important when Ron got out of the taxi at the airport looking like, well, he'd stuck his finger in an electric outlet.

"What the hell did you do?" snorted Fred, adjusting his dragonhide jacket.

"Did you do that on purpose?" scoffed George, buttoning up his own.

"You do look a bit conspicuous," said Tonks, running a hand through her neon green bob cut.

"Yes, a bit odd," muttered Lupin, tightening his tie and attempting to attach it to an overhanging beam.

~~~~~

Yes, his hair was an unusual shade of green. But green didn't mean anything. Tonks' hair was green at the moment too. Maybe Tonks wasn't the best example of normality, but plenty of muggles had green hair. At least, he thought they did. And so what if he was slightly yellow in color? It was probably just jaundice. ("Just jaundice?" remarked Ron upon hearing Harry's logic later on. "It's not like jaundice is a good thing.") Harry could overlook his appearance. He could overlook those periodic grins that reminded him sharply of Draco Malfoy. In fact, he could even overlook the way his food seemed to mysteriously disappear without the use of a fork. All the same, he didn't actually want to sit next to him. Not for hours anyway.

So he stood up and decided he would convince someone to switch with him. He went through the possibilities. Hermione was smart enough to be suspicious when he asked her, and she was reading, which pretty much meant she was immovable. Ginny also was clever enough to know there would be a catch, but she might be more sympathetic. Fred and George had purposefully booked adjoining seats so they could work on their sales pitch, so there was no use asking either of them. Lupin was most likely trying to drown himself in the bathroom, and Tonks would probably be there too trying to pull him out. He decided he would try their seats. But when he approached their seats, Tonks was listening to the movie running on headphones and Lupin was attempting to wrap the cord around his throat.

"Professor?"

"Please, Harry, just call me Remus," said Lupin as he gave an extra hard wrench on the cord, knowing full well that Tonks had charmed it to be immovable.

"I was wondering if you might want to switch seats?"

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Well, there's this man and he's a bit, well-"

"Annoying?"

"Disturbing really."

"I see."

"And he's got jaundice I think."

"Ah, jaundice. Not contagious, is it?" 

"No."

"Damn."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It's very disconcerting though."

"The swearing or the jaundice?"

"The jaundice."

"Just don't let him drive you down the path of squalor and addiction, and you should be alright."

"Thank you, professor."

"You're welcome."

"Hallo, Harry. Smashing movie," said Ron in the loud tone people always seem to use while wearing headphones as Harry approached him. "There's these short people, and they've just met up with some elves, only they're not like real elves 'cause they're tall and have eyes that don't bug out, and there's another short fellow, only he's taller than the other short ones and harrier and wears shoes and there are two scraggly muggles and a wizard who looks a bit like Dumbledore and they're all in a fuss over a ring and I haven't figured out why yet and Hermione says it's a muggle book and people keep waving whacking great swords about and it's all very exciting though I'm not quite sure what's going on and I can't figure out what all their names are so I'm calling the sad looking one Harry, after you, and the Dumbledore one's Dumbledore obviously and that one there's named Mary, only he's a boy I think and that blondish one there I'm calling the Prat because he wants the ring for himself and you know he's going to turn out bad and I can't see why the wizard doesn't just apparate the ring to that Mordor place and save some time, but maybe he hasn't passed his test and why are they all going to the evil eye thing anyway, cause it doesn't make sense, does it?" 

The entire plane was staring at Ron. And he was completely oblivious.

"What was it you came for Harry?"

"Can I switch-"

"What?"

"Can I switch seats?"

"What?" asked Ron even louder. "I can't hear you! That funny green bunch there is all yelling and waving swords around!"

"Take off the headphones then."

"What?"

"TAKE OFF THE BLOODY HEADPHONES!" Everyone stopped staring at Ron. Instead, they stared at Harry.

"I can't hear you!" cried Ron again. "Wait, lemme take off the headphones..."

"Forget it!"

"What, Harry?"

"Go to hell, Ron." Harry began to hop back to his seat.

"What? Who smells? Wait, Harry, come back! Wait! Oh, go hex yourself, stupid git....ruining a bloody great movie with all your yelling....Wait, why is Dumbledore falling? Dumbledore? No! He can't really be dead, can he?" A single tear trickled down Ron's right cheek. "He's dead Hermione! Hermione! He's dead!" He grabbed Hermione and began shaking her, tearing flowing down his front.

"For goodness sake, Ron, he comes back in the next one."

"Where snake?"

~~~~~

The plane arrived at the airport approximately twenty minutes late. 

There was a violent whoosh of air as a scrawny, black haired boy hurled himself towards the door of the plane. For the past twenty minutes he had been glancing back and forth between his wristwatch and the man beside him. After the first five minutes of this practice, the man beside him caught on and started making the most of it by pulling the most evil face he could manage. By the time the plane landed, the boy was pale, wet in several places, and slightly more suicidal than he had been at the start. The man was having the time of his life. There was, however, one moment when the boy muttered something about Gryffindor pride, puffed out his chest, and attempted to glare at the man beside him. The man spilled his coffee on the boy's lap. When the boy leapt in agony, a stewardess scolded him. The same stewardess was nearly decapitated when the boy made his rash escape. A brown haired girl of approximately the same age and another boy who appeared to be temporarily deaf retrieved his things.

Luggage was a mess. Or rather, it was perfectly fine until a rowdy bunch of British drug lords tramped along and started raising hell. At least, that was what Mrs. J. P. Nettle told the officer several hours later during the police investigation. But by then they were long gone, and Mrs. Nettle's story went unconfirmed. 

In any case, the drug lords (there were eight of them) trampled along to pick up their luggage and were being quite polite when one of them, let's call him Ron, made a vague comment about girls packing too much.

"What?" cried out drug lord #2, code name Hermione.

"Well, I've only got one bag myself," said Ron, staring at his feet.

"So have I," called Tonks through the crowd as she plucked an ancient looking carpetbag from the rotating platform.

"Me too," said Hermione indignantly, holding up a single suitcase. 

"Then who the hell are we waiting for?" muttered Ron.

"Well, Harry's hasn't come through yet."

"We had more than four when we got on though."

"There's Ginny's, and Fred and George each brought one, and Lupin brought something I think," said Tonks, counting off on her fingers. "That's eight."

"But there are eight of us!"

"What are you going on about, Ron?" said George.

"WHY DID I HAVE TO CARRY TWO SUITCASES?"

"I don't know, Ron," muttered Fred, "maybe you're just dumb."

"Oh, shut up- all of you," cried Hermione.

"You shut up. It was probably yours I was carrying!"

"I think not!"

"Yeah, it was," said Ron, his eyes narrow with though. "You had that whacking great book! That's why!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why does everyone take advantage of me!" 

"No-one's taking advantage of you," said Tonks.

"Yes we are," said Fred. "Now shut up, you great prat, and grab the suitcases."

"Fred!"

"I was only joking Tonks."

"He is a prat though," agreed George.

"All of you!"

"Why don't you take your wand out of your arse Hermione and do something useful!"

"Ron!"

"Don't you 'Ron!' me!"

Harry glanced away from the scene momentarily and noticed something was amiss.

"Something's amiss," said Harry.

"-Eh?" said Ron, mid-insult.

"Ginny's gone."

"Bloody hell...." He stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd desperately, and then- "Your prat, Harry! He's got her."

~~~~~

Next chapter: The x-men actually appear! (One mutant was present in this chapter, btw, and it wasn't Mrs. Nettle. Guess the name, win…my undying respect.) A wild car chase! A prat! (_the _prat) More vague and ridiculously obscure allusions! Neville! (Yes, Neville.)


	2. Myxomatosis

Chapter 2- Myxomatosis

a/n: the rules of the challenge that spawned this said something like movie canon only for the X-men so people don't get confused. I'm bending that a bit, as you'll soon see. Colossus _was_ in the movie, but only for about 2.5 minutes, and they didn't even mention him by name. But I like the character, so there. I'll make sure to include appropriate introductions when the situation arises, and he'll be sort of my own amalgamation of canon. "I Want it All Back" by the Seatbelts is a good song to listen to while reading this, though it's better with the chase thing it's generally associated with. All logic is suspended. In particular, people seem to be able to walk several feet and travel several miles. I would spend more time making it all make sense, but that wouldn't be as fun. Myxomatosis is a Radiohead song, by the way.

~~~~~

It was nice to be back in the states, he thought, stepping off the plane. And that kid had been hilarious. But now he had to collect the bag quickly and leave. He had had to put it into luggage unfortunately, but they hadn't suspected a thing. The modifications to the bag had fooled the metal detector nicely.

Everything was going according to plan. And then he saw them.

Stationed at various intervals, all scanning the crowd, were the X-men.

There he saw the annoying one with the funny eyes (they were all annoying really, he thought), Cyclops they called him. And that one that changed the weather. And over there was one he'd never seen before. He was the most conspicuous of the lot, though, and definitely one of them. Did they really think that no-one'd be suspicious of three idiots, all wearing identical leather suits? But then, this was New York....

He needed an escape, a plan. A hostage. That girl with the funny kid looked easy enough. He slid up behind her, put a hand over her mouth and dragged her back. The idiots were too busy arguing to even notice.

"Scream and you're dead," he whispered into an ear covered in red hair. "Now walk."

Ginny swore inwardly. Her wand was in her bag; her bag was with Ron. She plodded forward, hoping that her idiot brothers would notice before she was dead. She could kick him, she thought, but muggles have guns, don't they? That wouldn't work.

"That's good. Just keep moving."

"Oi!" called a voice from the crowd. "Bloody hell! Sonofabitch! Get back here!"

Two more voices joined in the chorus of obscenities, and Ginny caught a glimpse of three familiar fellow redheads barreling through the crowd.

"I'll kill you! I'll bloody kill you!" yelled Fred (or was it George?), waving his wand violently and shoving people out of his way. His twin, whichever it was, ran beside him, also breaking through the crowd. Ron, the tallest of the three, ran in their wake, yelling louder than the other two combined. Tonks grabbed Lupin by his tie and followed behind, fishing her wand out of her pocket. And Harry and Hermione were left with the luggage.

He broke into a sprint, dragging the girl with him. He saw it, the exit, looming ahead. If he could only reach it....

Cyclops turned. There was something very suspicious afoot. At least, he though three shrieking redheads and two mostly normal looking adults chasing after two people, one of whom looked distinctly like Magneto's minion Toad, was a little unusual.

He cut through the crowd, signaling quietly to the others. But before they could react, Toad and whomever he was dragging behind him made it to a discreet (and conveniently placed) exit and slid outside, the other five still bursting through the crowd behind them.

Fred and George slammed into the door hard, shoving it open violently; Ron didn't even bother, preferring to hurl a reductor curse that blew it off it's hinges. All three were possessed by a sudden, uncontrollable rage that would have been far more amusing if the circumstances weren't what they were. But they were what they were, so even Lupin, who was at that moment attempting to suffocate by shoving his left hand down his throat (as Tonks dragged him out onto the landing strip*), couldn't blame Ron for the way he began flinging spells at everything that moved. He even tried to get in the way of one of his spells, but Tonks' iron fist was securely attached to his ear. If Lupin had been a great lover of American muggle holiday films, he might even have been vaguely reminded of a similar cinematic explosion. Or not. It's difficult to tell with people who think swallowing large quantities of landing strip gravel is a good way to die.

Anyway...

Ron was hurling curses here and there, and one in particular hit a strange muggle shooting lasers out of his eyes dead center. The poor idiot collapsed in a leather clad heap and was promptly tripped over by someone taller than Ron but smaller than Hagrid who barely managed to keep from collapsing in a leather clad heap himself. Ron noted vaguely in the single part of brain that wasn't completely consumed by rage that this person, who couldn't be much older than Percy if at all, was more awkward than all six Weasley brothers had ever been combined. But the much more dominant, very angry side smacked him in the back of the head because this maladroit was obviously Evil and obviously was part of this plot to steal Ginny. And Ron hadn't destroyed him yet.

"Reducto!" cried Ron as a flash of light burst from the end of his wand and hurled itself at the still stumbling muggle. But suddenly the muggle wasn't really a muggle anymore.

He quickly unzipped the front of his leather coat, and the spell reflected off what looked like plated armor. Ron barely had a moment to catch the muggle carefully zipping back up the jacket before he was forced to shout an obscenity and duck to avoid being hit with his own spell. Ron turned to watch the course of the spell, which ended up smashing into an abandoned golf cart sort of thing, and saw his true quarry hijacking a (conveniently placed) car and speeding off into a (conveniently crowded) street that just happened to be attached to the landing strip. Yeah. That's it.

So anyway, the thing that wasn't really a muggle but was nudged the thing with the funny eyes, who just happened to recover at that very moment, just in time to catch Toad's hasty retreat**. He was rather angry, the muggle thing, but Ron wasn't sure at whom. He began tearing after Ron, who began tearing after the twins, who were tearing after the car. 

But they couldn't keep up on foot, and they knew it, so they headed for the nearest car they saw, a blue and white affair with strange lights on top. Completely unattended as well.

Ron and the funny muggle caught up just as the twins grabbed the door handles.

"Can you drive?" said Cyclops nervously as the twin red heads hopped into the front seats.

"Of course," said the one in the passenger seat, scanning the controls. "Now, where's the invisibility booster..." His eyes wandered and then fixated on a small switch. "Here it is Fred, start 'er up!" Fred jabbed his wand at the ignition, and the engine rumbled while the other flicked the switch. A piercing wail began to emit from the vehicle as Fred pulled into the street.

"I don't think that's the right one, George."

"Neither do I. Seems to be working though."

"They're all getting out of the way...." said the third boy. He looked to the person to his right, smashed up against the window. "Oh, hallo, Neville."

"Hallo, Ron."

"What are you doing here?" Ron looked down at Neville's hands. "And why are you in handcuffs?"

"Well, you see, Gran and I-"

"Bloody hell!" yelled Fred.

"It's the git! Run 'im over, Fred!"

Cyclops looked ahead to see a fourth (dear God, no) redheaded boy, older than the three with him but looking a great deal like the tall one next to him, about to step down onto a crosswalk, completely unaware of the terror hurling towards him. In an instant, the car smashed into him, throwing the tall, gangling body up on the hood as the cart continued to part the waters of New York traffic. 

He looked on in horror. These maniacs had killed someone, and they hadn't even bothered to scrape the body off the windshield.

But suddenly, despite the velocity of the vehicle, the body managed to groan, sit up a bit, and glare in at the two in the front seat.

"What the hell are you doing," grunted the undead one as he straightened his glasses. 

"What the hell are _you_ doing?" asked the driver.

"And why won't you die?" asked his twin.

"Pull over before you hit someone you're not related to!" yelled the corpse.

"No!" yelled the driver even louder as he jerked the wheel, left to right, swerving desperately in an attempt to dislodge the body.

"I'm not going to let go just because you want to be an idiot."

"Damn it. Just get off."

"It's kind of difficult when you're driving at 70 miles per hour," said the dead boy that wasn't dead as he tilted his head to read the speedometer. "Look, I'd apparate in, but you've already got a full load. There's a conveniently placed and completely illogical abandoned warehouse in about two blocks. If you stop in there I can explain." 

"We're in the middle of a car chase here," groaned Ron.

"Oh, hell, Ron. Can you even see the car you're chasing?"

"That's not the point."

"Fine," sighed George. "We'll pull over."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonks and Lupin were suddenly confronted by the fact that they had lost everyone that they were supposed to look after and had found a few that they weren't, namely two muggle in matching leather- Ron's gawky fool with the armor that wasn't and another, a woman whose white hair starkly contrasted her dark skin.

"I don't suppose we can pretend they're Harry and Hermione," muttered Tonks as she made Lupin spit up a rock he had just popped in his mouth.

"No," he groaned. "But the real ones should catch up soon. They've probably just been dragging all our luggage across the airport."

"That was mean of us, wasn't it?"

"Very. But we can't fix it now. And it's their own fault if they didn't think to use levitation charms."

"It's a muggle airport though, Remus."

"Yes, and I'm very aware of the fact that if they did levitate them, at least one lucky bastard would have a heart attack."

"But that's not the point, Remus. The point is that all four Weasleys have been kidnapped and Molly will probably wring our necks unless we find them soon and intact."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Tonks sighed. "It is, you git."

~~~~~

They parked in the abandoned warehouse, and everyone disembarked, including the still-handcuffed Neville.

First, Fred punched Percy in the stomach.

Second, George punched Percy in the stomach.

Third, Ron, feeling mildly sorry for Percy, punched him slightly more lightly in the stomach.

And fourth, caught up in all the excitement, Neville kicked Percy in the shin. Cyclops was too stunned to do anything much more than glare menacingly, which didn't really work as no one could see his eyes anyway.

"You redheaded sonofabitch. You redheaded sonofa-"

"Can we take a moment to clear a few things up?" groaned Percy as he gingerly examined his abdomen to make sure all his faculties were intact.

"Eh?" said several people at once.

"A moment. To clarify."

"Ah, fine then. Never say we're entirely unreasonable," mumbled George.

"All right then. You see, your references to me, though not entirely without reasonable foundation, are about as insulting to you as they are to me, us having the same mother and red hair and all."

"Ah yes. Good point there, you inherently evil and incorrigibly ignorant prat."

"Much better. Now, on to business, things are not what they seem. If they were then I doubt we would be standing in an abandoned warehouse with a stolen police car and a very pathetic looking muggle-"

"Hey," interrupted Cyclops.

"You are pathetic," said Ron, turning to him. Cyclops mumbled in a distinctly childlike fashion and curled up in a ball in a corner.

"Anyway," continued Percy as he watched him with mild confusion, "I have been a prat, but not without reason. You see, it was necessary to be the aforementioned prat in order to work my way up in the ministry in order to better serve our cause. Dumbledore specifically requested that I do so, and at the moment I was leaving a conference with the American eastern coast regional governor."

"Governor?" asked Neville, because someone had to.

"Head of their magical government. They've got it split up into regions here, the country's so large, and each one has it's own sort of minister. Only they don't call them ministers because they're American and don't appreciate the wonders of blood pudding."

"I hate blood pudding," groaned Ron.

"So do I, but that's not the point. The point is that I am a prat, but not really and anyway, who were you chasing and why are you here?"

"Well, you see, Gran and I were-"

"He means us, Neville," Ron interrupted. 

"We're on business," began Fred, "but Ron, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny all tagged along and then this creepy muggle made Harry wet himself and then he kidnapped Ginny and-"

"Wait. Why didn't just you and George come?"

"Do we have to explain it all? It's very confusing. You can read it later. I'll give you the url."

"Fine. Continue."

"So this muggle kidnapped Ginny, and we went after him to beat him into the pavement, and then this other muggle-" George gestured to the man in the fetal position in the corner, "-tagged along, and then you leapt in front of the car-"

"I did no such thing! You swerved to hit me!"

"Same thing. Anyway, then we came here, and then you asked us what we were doing here, and then Fred started to tell you, but you interrupted, and then I continued, but you interrupted me too, and then I finished telling you and went to sit in the car because I was thoroughly bored." George went to the car, hopped back in the passenger seat, and began to play with the radio.

"So Ginny's gone?"

"Yes."

"Does mum know?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Don't tell her. Do we know at all where she might be?"

The muggle in the corner grunted something.

"What'd he say?" asked Neville.

"Dunno," said Ron. "Oi! Funny eyes! What was that!"

He mumbled slightly louder.

"You're going to have to articulate better. We can't make out what you're saying through your American Prat accent."

"Cerebro can find her!" her yelled unexpectedly.

"What's cere-whatsit?" asked Ron, turning to Fred.

"No idea. Oi, George!"

"What?"

"What's a cere-whatsit?"

"Dunno. Oi, Percy!"

"What?"

"What's a cere-whatsit?"

"Ask the muggle."

"What?"

"Ask the muggle!"

"Oi, muggle!

"It's a machine that locates mutants!"

"What's a cere-whatsit?"

"I told you!"

"Did you?"

"Yes. You were expecting me to say 'What?' and continue the established comedic pattern, but I anticipated your motive and answered your question before you could ask it."

"Ah. Right then," said Ron, turning to Fred. "What's a mutant?"

"It's a me!" called the muggle.

"If you want to talk to us, come over here, you git. My throat hurts," groaned Percy. "That goes for you as well, George." George muttered something angrily, switched off the radio and scooted out of the car in time to cut off the muggle as he approached the group.

"Can I sit in the car then?" asked Neville.

"No one really cares what you're going to say, so it's fine with me," replied Percy.

"Oh, goody. I've always wanted to try out a muggle radio."

"Ahem. Moving on. Can you take us to this Cerebro?" asked Percy.

"Yes," he answered. Everyone stared at him.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Oh. Sure. It's at the school...." Percy coughed noticeably. "...the mutant school...." Fred and George coughed in unison. "...where I live...." All four brothers coughed very loudly.

"Have you got colds or something?" called Neville from the car.

"Shut up, Neville," said Fred. "The muggle isn't very bright and we've almost gotten him to tell us where to go."

"You want me to tell you where the school is?"

"Yes."

"That's confidential."

"Do you really think we give a damn where your fortress of solitude is?" asked Ron.

"Eh?"

"Sorry. Harry got me some muggle comics for my birthday last year."

"Oh."

"Anyway, take us or we'll shove our wands up your arse," said George.

"Wands?"

"Yes. Wands. Fancy sticks that hurt like hell when placed in inappropriate positions."

"I see." He appeared to consider the information for a moment. "I'll be driving then?" 

"Sure. Get in."

"I'm Cyclops, by the way."

"We're people who don't really care."

~~~~~

*Yes, a landing strip. And how does the baggage claim manage to open onto a landing strip, you ask? Does it really matter?

**Was there ever really a calm and collected retreat?

~~~~~

Next chapter- more insanity, more mutants, Monty Python, and more canon bashing. Coming whenever I feel like finishing it.


	3. And Now

Chapter 3- And Now For Something Completely Different

a/n: Yeah. So, you're still reading? Why? Anyway, here's the chapter. Yeah. That's it. Oh, and for Yrael, this chapter features (briefly) happy-go-lucky!Lupin. This chapter is dedicated to John, whose name is not Stephen, for reasons that will be later established.

~~~~~

The drive was long. Too long. I mean really too long. Do you have a sibling? A younger one? Than you know what I mean. For everyone else, just go to the land of make believe and pretend.

Neville's choice of driving music, which largely consisted of somewhat loud, mostly angry/angsty sounding rock, would have been entirely appropriate and very cool. But Cyclops was such a whiner.

"Could you turn the volume down?"

"But I like this one."

"What's it called then?"

Neville paused in thought for a moment, and then, obeying the general rule of rock music, decided to settle on the phrase most repeated in the song. "'Get Free?'"

"Lucky guess." He spun the dial. "This one then."

"'Sit Down, Stand Up.'"

"Damn." He spun it again.

"'Say It Ain't So.'"

"'Brass Monkey.'"

"'Bandages.'"

He spun the dial a final time and smiled wickedly at the 16-year-old riding shotgun. "Guess that!"

"Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata.'"

"But-"

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

"Coulda fooled me."

"At least I wasn't wandering around the Ministry screeching about Uranus."

"Shut up, Neville."

"Everyone says that."

"I wonder why," groaned Cyclops.

"Look, just because 90% of the fandom depicts me either as a worthless, bumbling fool or an evil Pettigrew wannabe doesn't mean I have to take this shit from an idiot who drives like my Gran*."

"Doth mine ears deceive me?" grunted George from his position of being smashed up against the window.

"Did ickle Neville just say-"

"See what you've driven me to!" Neville cried, turning to Cyclops. "I'm a good kid! I swear! What'd Gran say?"

"Sucks to your Gran."

"And again with the insulting allusions! I'm clumsy, I'm crap with most magic, but I'm not a pudgy whiner! And if anyone's a super ego allegory it's Percy!**"

"What the hell are we talking about?" grunted George.

"Doesn't matter," groaned Fred as he elbowed Percy in the side. "We're there. Conveniently."

"She just ran out of dialogue ideas probably," mumbled Ron as he flung himself out of the car.

"So? Any longer and I think my face'd be permanently flat on one side."

"It was all pathetic really."

"Not funny at all."

"I feel violated."

And lightening fell upon them and smote them all because I felt like it. But then they all came back to life and didn't remember anything about it because if they didn't there'd be no story and Percy has yet to be snogged.

~~~~~

"What is this place?" asked Ron as they all piled into the building.

"Anonymity is a mutant's first defense against the world's hostility. [cut to colorful montage of students being generally odd on a beautiful campus] To the public, we are merely a school for gifted youngsters. Cyclops, Storm, and Jean were some of my first students. I protected them, taught them to control their powers and, in time, teach others to do the same. The students are mostly runaways, frightened, alone, and-"

Ron's stomach rumbled noticeably.

"Hungry?"

"So...have you got any chocolate frogs?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

The man in the wheelchair's eyebrows rose noticeably. "As I was saying-"

"Look, I'm sure this is all very lovely and touching and symbolic, but we've lost our sister and two friends and two guardian types and we should probably find them before they hurt themselves," said George.

"This git here-" Fred gestured to Cyclops, "said you could help us find them. With your cere-whatsit."

"Girl with red hair like you four, twitchy boy about your age, girl with mess of brown hair, older girl with a neon green bob, middle-aged head case?" asked the man.

"He is psychic...." whispered Neville to a stunned looking Ron.

"That I am, Mr. Longbottom, but my powers were not necessary here. You see, they arrived 15 minutes ago with Storm and Colossus. They're in the kitchen having sodas and potato salad."

"What?"

"Potato salad?"

"Without us?"

"I want potato salad," sniffed Ron.

"Go have some."

"Really?" Ron squealed with delight (yes squealed) and ran in the direction of the kitchen, knowing exactly where it was because he was very hungry and because I said so.

And then the Professor went into a deep philosophical rant on the nature of humanity in which many discrepancies were cleared up, but no one really cared, so I can't be bothered to write it. 

So anyway, Ron went in the kitchen in search of potato salad and found....dun dun dun....

~~~~~

The End. That's it. Go home. 

You're still here? Yeah, see this guy I know told me to look in his AIM profile, and it was all blank and you scrolled down and then it said, "You're stupid." And I warned him, because he's an ass in general and his 'lmao' was just a bit much. Yeah. So anyway, you're _not_ stupid. You stayed. All the stupid people are gone now. Woop-dee-do. On with the story.

~~~~~

...dun dun dun....

Potato salad! (Can you tell I like potato salad? I do.)

So Ron went in the kitchen and found the potato salad and everyone stood around him, watching him stuff his face, not because it was particularly entertaining but because they were waiting for him to ask them what happened so they could tell him. Ron has a one-track mind though, so they might have been waiting for a long time if Neville hadn't come in.

"Hallo all," said Neville cheerfully.

"Hallo," said Tonks. "Neville Longbottom, right? I've met your Gran. Where did you come from?"

"Well, Gran and I were-"

"Wait," interrupted Fred as the twins entered the kitchen. "How did you get Ginny back?"

"And who's the tall one in the corner?" continued George.

"And why is Professor Lupin shoving his head in the dishwasher?" asked Percy, coming in behind.

"You mean this isn't an oven?" grunted Lupin from the floor. "No wonder it's so wet...."

"Hold on!" cried Tonks. "Everyone calm down.... I think this calls for a flashback sequence."

~~~~~

So these two guys with long hair run out and one's like Dude and the other's like Dude and I'm like Dude and then they wave their hands and are like duh duh duh duh duh duh and everything gets all blurry and they're like Dude and I'm like Dude I need to sleep because I'm having Wayne's World hallucinations and Dude yeah uh....

~~~~~

The other day in my EPI (Economics and Public Issues *cough*bullshit*cough*) class this guy who I thought was named Stephen but is really named John got up to present his project on adopting a national sales tax to replace income taxes. Best presentation ever. Seriously. Apparently the IRS kills babies. And at the end, the teacher asked, "And why do you have a picture of a monkey on your board?" and he answered, "What kind of pictures do you expect me to find about income taxes?"

So why did I tell you this? Because the world needs more monkeys.

Way back when, when Tonks and Lupin were staring at the funny muggles and contemplating death at the hand of Molly Weasley, a monkey came out of nowhere and sat on Lupin's head.

"Hello, little monkey," said Lupin in people-talk.

"Hello, crazy man," squeaked the monkey in monkey-talk.

Lupin was overjoyed. This monkey, this light from above, was here to guide him through the abyss that burdened him. He would be happy again with this monkey as his friend. All was right with the world.

"Professor," grunted Harry as he and Hermione came out onto the landing strip dragging 7 people's worth of luggage, "why is there a monkey on your head?"

"Why not a monkey?" asked Lupin with philosophical serenity. "Take it easy, Harry."

"Who are they?" muttered Hermione as she cocked her head in the direction of the leather-clad muggles who were standing very still and waiting for a convenient entry into the conversation.

"They call me Storm," called the woman as she serenely approached the group.

"And I'm...I'm Colossus," said the young man behind her.

"We were tracking a mutant- Toad- but he appears to have kidnapped your friend and escaped."

"Why exactly were you tracking him?" asked Hermione because it's her job to ask things.

"We think he might be transporting something, something potentially dangerous, something that we cannot allow to fall into the wrong hands."

"See?" cried Lupin. "Everyone's got something to hide except me and my monkey."

"I concur," squeaked the monkey in monkey-talk.

"I'll call you Chim Chim," said Lupin, smiling at his newfound friend.

"I'll call you Crazy Man Who Needs New Clothes," squeaked Chim Chim, smiling a monkey smile at his newfound pedestal.

Hermione coughed discreetly. "Do you have any idea what this...something...might be?"

"That would be too easy, wouldn't it?" said Harry. "Saves too much time. There needs to be room for hours of contemplation as to what could be so diabolical."

"Exactly," said Storm. 

"So, how can we help?" asked Tonks.

"You could tell us your names. That'd be helpful."

"Oh. Of course. I'm Tonks."

"I'm Harry."

"I'm Hermione."

"And the crazy one's Remus Lupin."

"Wait," interrupted Harry. "Hold up. What exactly is a mutant? Is it like a wizard?"

"A mutant," began Storm, "is someone born genetically different from normal humans. Each mutant has special abilities that set him or her apart from the majority of the population. We are mutants, and so is Toad. I can control the weather, Colossus can generate armor, and Cyclops- the one that ran off- can fire powerful laser beams from his eyes."

"Wizards?" asked Colossus. "You mean like in fairytales?"

"No. Magic is real," explained Hermione. "It's sort of like being a mutant, I think. You're born with it. We're all wizards, the red headed ones that are gone included."

"With spells and wands and everything?" asked Colossus, still incredulous.

"I thought it must be a joke too when I was first told, but it isn't."

Chim Chim coughed. "Now that introductions are out of the way, mightent we carry on with more pressing business?" he squeaking in monkey-talk.

"Yes. I concur, Chim Chim. Shouldn't we be chasing Toad?"

"Oh. Yes of course," said Storm, preparing herself to run very far very fast.

"Sounds good to me," agreed Harry.

"Wait!" cried Hermione. "Accio...diabolical something Toad has!"

~~~~~

"That's it? You used a summoning charm and that's how you got Ginny back?" cried Ron, half chewed potatoes spewing in every direction.

"Pretty much. The thing came back, Toad came back chasing it, and we got Ginny away from him."

"Then he took the thing back (because the story can't end yet), and we almost chased him, but we were hungry, so we decided to come back here first."

"So we came and were eating, and then I fixed Piotr's uniform, and then you came in," finished Hermione.

"Who's Piotr!"

"Colossus. You didn't think that was his real name?"

"Of course not...but what do you mean you 'fixed his uniform'?"

"Well, he was having to wear one that was too big for him because when he transforms he gets bigger, so I put a spell on so it would change to fit him no matter what size he is."

Ron sputtered. "What is it with you and moody Slavic men?"

"What!"

"First Krum, now this oaf...are there more we don't know about?"

"I fixed his uniform, you git, I didn't have sex with him."

"But Krum!"

"What about Victor? I didn't have sex with him either."

"That's not the point!"

"What is the point!'

"I don't know!"

"Shut up, you two," groaned Lupin. "Isn't this how Ginny got kidnapped in the first place?"

Neville looked puzzled. "There's one thing I don't understand...."

"What's that?" asked Tonks.

"The monkey. What happened to the monkey?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Don't even go there."

~~~~~

Damn jet lug, thought Ron. Can't sleep. Stupid jet lug. He had left the room he had been given to share with Harry and the twins and was now wandering the empty halls aimlessly. He went in the direction of the kitchen (it was the only room he recognized), but realized for once in his life he wasn't hungry at all.

A light was flickering down the hall and he walked towards it. A small boy sat on a sofa, a large screen flipping rapidly through images before him.

"Oi, midget, budge up a bit."

"What?"

"Budge up. I want to watch the tele-whatsit too."

The boy grumbled but slid to the right a bit, and Ron slumped down beside him.

"Jet lug for you too?"

"What?"

"Jet lug. We were flying and now I can't sleep. Were you flying too?"

"You mean jet _lag_?"

"Whatever."

"Why would I be flying?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's your special power or whatever."

"Not hardly." He blinked and the image changed again. He continued on, settling only briefly on each image before moving on.

"Wait! Go back!"

"No. Why should I?"

"They're British!"

"So?"

"So I'm British!"

"So?"

"So I'm bigger than you, _and_ I can curse your ears off."

The boy looked unimpressed, but he blinked the channel back anyway.

(random a/n: go read "I was a death eater and all I got was this bloody t-shirt" by durendal on fictionalley.org. I think it's under Dark Arts, but it's damn funny, better than this shite at least, and everyone should read it because I said so. And read "Harry Potter and the Hastily Developed Plotlines" here on fanfiction.net or "The Marauders and the Triwizard Tournament" or both. Yeah, read both. Now. Then come back here and finish this crap after you've put on a fresh pair of undies.)

So Ron was watching and howling with laughter when Harry and Hermione, who were conveniently awake as well, stumbled in.

"Harry, you've got to see this. This idiot muggle- his name's Ron, but he's really an insult to the name- thinks he can jump across the English Channel. What a prat. Almost as bad as Percy, only now that doesn't count really since he's conveniently redeemed and all."

"You do realize this isn't real, Ron?" asked Hermione cautiously.

"What? Of course it's real. It's on the tele-whatsit, isn't it? That one there's a reporter."

"Ron, that's John Cleese."

"Yeah, John Cleese the reporter."

"He's an actor, Ron."

"But he just said he was reporting for the BBC!"

"But that's what actors do, Ron, they pretend to be things that they're not."

"I know that! But who would pretend to be a reporter?"

"John Cleese?"

"Okay. Fine. This Cleese person's not really a reporter, but that other one, Ron Obvious, he's real isn't he?"

"Ron-"

"He has to be real. Why would anyone be that much of a prat on purpose?"

"Because it's funny."

"No it's not. It's only funny if it's real. Now it's just stupid." He frowned and looked sulky because he felt like being sulky. "Change the channel, midget."

"No."

"Change it or I'll make you titchier than you are now and shove your arse down the loo."

"That might have been vaguely intimidating...if I knew what any of it meant!"

"Just shut your gob and change the damn channel."

"What happened to the monkey, Hermione?" asked Neville, randomly appearing in the room.

"What?"

"The monkey. What happened to it?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Why the hell would I ask if I didn't want to know?"

"Because you're nothing but a bumbling fool, Neville, who doesn't know what's best for him, and no one even cares that you exist."

Suddenly, a strange brown-haired girl (*cough*me, duh*cough*) ran into the room waving a ham sandwich, which she promptly slapped Hermione with before vanishing in a cloud that smelled of brimstone.

"But that's my trademark!" cried an indignant, blue-ish sort of person that was suddenly in the room because I though it might be funny. It wasn't I guess, so he disappeared, also in a cloud that smelled of brimstone.

And suddenly, because nothing happens gradually in this scene, the magic power of the ham sandwich bitch-slap enlightened Hermione to the true value of Neville. 

"Neville, I'm tired of moody Slavic men. Please, come into the closet so that you might ravish me."

"I'm not really in the mood, Hermione, but I appreciate the offer," remarked randomly-attractive!Neville with an air of nonchalance. "But I still want to know what happened to the monkey."

"I'll tell you...if you come into the closet, Neville." 

~~~~~

Once upon a time, I read a most brilliant Harry Potter MST. It was very funny and also involved certain parodies of the Austin Powers movies that I didn't actually understand then, but it was hilarious anyway. And then the site vanished. And I cried. Yeah. Seriously. Actually I didn't really. This has nothing to do with this story, but if you have any idea of the whereabouts of the aforementioned MST or remember anything like this, /please/ tell me. I swear I'll let you borrow Percy for a bit so long as you don't bruise him or anything.

*ahem*

~~~~~

*Assuming that she drives at all.

**See The Lord of the Flies.

~~~~~

Yeah. That's the end. Seriously. No more random tangents for the time being. 

So...does Hermione molest Neville? Will Percy _ever_ be snogged? Why was Neville in handcuffs to begin with? And what happened to the monkey? Coming soon to a computer near you…Part 4 of "Roll With the Punches!" God, that was corny. I should go drown my sorrows in the sequel to "I was a death eater..." now.


End file.
